


A Rose by Any Other Name

by UltimateFandomTrash



Category: Supernatural
Genre: I think I broke Sam, M/M, Roses, Symbolism, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-27 16:27:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12585964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UltimateFandomTrash/pseuds/UltimateFandomTrash
Summary: Having the ability to manipulate the Cage to his will, Lucifer makes it look like he and Sam are in a rose garden. In this new setting, Sam undergoes unimaginable torture that makes him rethink who he really is.





	A Rose by Any Other Name

**Author's Note:**

> This Cage fic that no one asked for literally only came to life because I randomly came across a book in my college's library that had a few pages about the symbolism of roses. I know, inspiration is crazy. And for the record, I don't condone any of Lucifer's words, thoughts, or actions, and never will. This is a great read if you feel like joining me in Hell.

Sam expected to see the Cage when the next day in Hell started all over again, just like he usually did. It’d been years since Lucifer had made it look like they were somewhere else. What he didn’t expect was to be sitting in a red-painted wooden chair amidst a rose garden. Sam straightened and looked around in shock. There were far more colors than he would’ve expected; roses in shades of orange, yellow, red, white, pink, and purple spread out around him as far as he could see, encircling him, leaving only a patch of grass free that was about twelve feet in diameter. Lucifer sat in the chair next to him, his face serene.

“What the hell?” he exclaimed, his words not yet stolen by fear.

“Calm down, Sammy,” Lucifer chided, and he then ignored the cynical laugh Sam let out as he leaned back against the chair again. “I just felt like switching it up today.”

Sam eyed him, eyebrows raised. “Okay. Usually with you switching it up means you’re going to use a different torture device or you came up with some new way to tie me up.”

“True.”

“Then why this?”

The Devil shrugged. “What can I say? I like roses.”

“What?”

“I get it, I get it. I’m Satan, I shouldn’t be able to like something as peaceful as a flower, right? But,” - he leaned over and plucked a white rose from the bush next to him, wincing as a thorn dug into his skin - “are roses really that peaceful?” He held it to his nose and inhaled its scent, his eyes closing. And then he swiped his bleeding thumb over the petals, marring them. Lucifer held it out to him. “Here.”

“Wha-”

“Just take it.”

His skin crawling from how wrong this all felt, from how disturbingly calm everything seemed, Sam tentatively reached out and took the rose from him.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” the dark angel asked as Sam observed it. “In most cultures it represents love or sexual desire, but it can also represent pain, suffering, the destruction of innocence.” He chuckled. “I know in one book the thorns are even described as phallic.”

Sam swallowed roughly and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end.

“Lovely.” He tossed the rose aside, not bothering to look at Lucifer to see if he’d offended him. It didn’t matter anyway. He’d still hurt him. Messing with him like this was simply one of the Devil’s versions of foreplay. “Does everything have to be about sex with you?”

There was a creak of wood, and Sam figured Lucifer had gotten up from his chair. He could feel his cold presence draw closer and then his hand was in his hair, stroking casually, as if he owned him. In a way, he did. Then he yanked hard, tugging his head upwards so their eyes met.

“I don’t see why not,” Lucifer answered. “Besides, what’s wrong with sex?”

Anger flared in Sam’s stomach amidst the chilling, constant fear now rising up in him, and he retorted, “Nothing… when it’s consensual.”

“Consent is such a pathetic ideal, especially for me. I’m powerful enough to just take what I want.”

Without letting go of his hair, Lucifer leaned over him, reaching for the rose bush behind him. He tugged another rose off, this time leaving the stem, and he teasingly trailed the flower along his lips and then down his neck. Sam shivered, and then Lucifer stabbed his collarbones with the thorns. A grunt left him and he gripped the edges of his seat, but he didn’t move. Trying to free himself from Satan’s grip would be futile. Blood started to trickle out onto his skin as the wounds stung fiercely. 

The dark angel smiled and it showed in his dull blue eyes.

“See? Aren’t roses just wonderful?”

“Sure,” Sam agreed. “You know what would make them even better? If these stupid thorns weren’t stuck in me.”

He leaned over him, tilting his head back even more, making it so his neck ached. The other hand wrapped around his throat, gripping ever so slightly, and then he ran his forked tongue possessively along his cheek. Sam shuddered and struggled to get away from him. 

He nipped at his earlobe and then told him, “I could stick other things in you if you’d like. Maybe you’d prefer something that’s more phallic than the thorns from a rose, hmm? Something a little more… substantial?”

He let him go, and Sam ripped the stem from him. Unfortunately, in doing so the thorns had dug into his hand. Though it hurt he did his best to not show Lucifer that it bothered him. Sam tossed the rose aside and then lowered his head, focusing on plucking out some of the thorns that were stuck in the palm of his hand, wincing slightly as he did so.

“If you’re going to do it, then just do it.”

“Come on, Sam, haven’t you ever heard of foreplay?”

“Yeah, but usually it’s a lot more fun than this, especially when it doesn’t involve me bleeding.”

“Ooh, you’re sassy today. I like it.” He playfully growled at him before walking around behind him, one hand trailing along his shoulders.

His hand never left him, and a new sensation joined that of his freezing touch. Burning, stabbing. Sam lurched forward, but Lucifer wrapped his arm around his shoulders, holding him down. And more pain joined the initial burst. Blood began to make its way down the back of his neck.

“Stabbing me with more thorns, huh? Creative.”

“Thanks. I try.”

Sam growled at him as another thorn was inserted into the back of his neck, and he bucked against him, an action that he had no control over.

“I love getting your body moving,” Lucifer breathed, his voice a little more gravelly than it had been a few seconds ago.

He heard him snap his fingers, and then his clothes were simply gone. Sam groaned in despair and leaned his head back, only for his gaze to meet Lucifer’s.

“What?” the Devil asked. “You knew it was only a matter of time before your clothes came off.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” he growled out.

Lucifer gave him a smile, like he was pretending to appear sympathetic. “I know, Sammy. I know.” 

He tapped against the thorns in his neck, burying them deeper and Sam whimpered, hating himself for making such a noise. And then, Lucifer grabbed him and threw him. Sam rolled once he hit the ground, and he lay on his side, facing Lucifer. He heaved in a gasp as Lucifer rounded the chair and started slowly coming towards him, acting as if he had all the time in the world. He really did. 

He threw his hand out and an invisible force pushed at Sam, flinging him onto his back. No matter how much he struggled he found himself unable to move.

“Having fun yet?” Lucifer asked.

Sam merely groaned and turned his head away from him. His throat ached and tears filled his vision. He wasn’t ready to be hurt again. He just wasn’t ready. But begging was useless. It was always so useless.

Lucifer walked around him, and a shiver ran through Sam from the way his eyes ran over the length of his body. He was taking much too long in observing him, and rather, Sam knew he was admiring the shape of him, his muscles, his bare skin. His stomach clenched with unbridled fear.

Then Lucifer walked over to one of the rose bushes and started yanking at the branches, cursing whenever a thorn broke his skin. But the pain wasn’t enough to deter him, and soon, Lucifer was sitting cross-legged, and he’d placed Sam’s head in his lap.

Sam tried to not look at him and instead gazed at the illusion of the blue sky. It reminded him too much of the dark angel’s eyes, so he set his attention on a rose bush a few feet from him, the flowers round and pink and filled with nectar.

Lucifer was doing something, of that he was sure, but he didn’t currently feel like figuring out what. And then his head was being lifted up, the Devil cradling his skull almost protectively. It made a tear trail down his cheek.

“Now, now, Sam,” Lucifer started, “save the tears for when I really get the show on the road.”

And then something was being twisted around his head.

“You were supposed to be the Boy King,” Lucifer mused as he continued his work, “and you went and fucked that up splendidly. But I guess that doesn’t matter. I thought I might at least still give you a crown.”

Thorns were stabbed into Sam’s head and he screamed. He tried to pull himself away, but with Lucifer holding him down with his powers, and with his head in his hands, he could barely move. He started shaking, a high-pitched whine emanating from him. Lucifer started humming a song and kept at his work, continuing to press the thorns into his head. Burning. His head was burning. And he could feel the sticky heat of his blood making its way into his scalp, trickling down over his forehead and the sides of his face. Luckily it had yet to get in his eyes. 

And he could feel the nimble, but strong wood of the stems and branches wrapped around his head like a demented crown.

“Stop,” he got out. “Please stop.”

The words apparently meant nothing to Lucifer, and as a form of punishment for begging him to stop he pressed against his crown, hard. Sam’s mouth opened in a scream, his vision blurring from the pain. And then he moved his hands from his head to his neck, breathing in sharply as he felt over his skin. Sam’s pulse quickened and hot and cold warred within him. Sweat broke out on his skin.

“Why?” he asked.

“Why what?” Lucifer questioned, his tone distant, as if he was entirely focused on running his hands over his bleeding collarbones down to his chest.

“Why do you touch me like-”

His question was interrupted as Lucifer jerked at his nipples with much more force than was necessary. A jolt of sensation shot through his body, causing him to shiver, his mouth dropping open in a surprised moan. And he tossed his head back, the motion making the thorns dig deeper into his skin. Sam was so confused by the sudden mix of pleasure and pain.

“Why do you touch me like this?” he got out through gritted teeth as Lucifer continued to play with his nipples, tugging at them roughly.

His stomach had started quivering and he knew it was only a matter of time before his body betrayed him and grew aroused.

“One,” Lucifer began, “you’re hot, two, sex is _awesome_ , and three…” He paused, his hands traveling lower as he leaned over him, his nails scraping against his heated skin. When he went on his voice was a low growl, “ _you’re mine_.”

Sam closed his eyes, and a tear trailed down his cheek, a sob building in his throat.

“Why don’t you just go back to sticking me with thorns?”

“Ooh! Actually, that gives me an idea.”

Lucifer removed his head from his lap and got to his feet. Sam watched with bated breath as Satan began to wander around the rose garden, collecting different flowers. At least this gave him a chance to force his body to calm down. He imagined blood, and pain, and knives and spikes driving into his skin, through his muscles. But then his mind grew chaotic, Lucifer’s cold touch invading his thoughts, his body, pleasure and desire burning within him. He whimpered again, and just wanted to disappear. Maybe then all this would stop. If he didn’t exist Lucifer couldn’t torment him like this, couldn’t play his sick games.

“Miss me already, Sammy?”

“I hate you,” he snarled out.

The Devil laughed. “I know.”

And then he came back over to him and knelt by his side, placing the flowers down on the ground. He picked up a red rose and began tearing the petals off, dropping them on and around his body. Sam unintentionally flinched when the first petal touched him, and then he tensed his muscles, willing himself to stay still.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked.

“Art,” Lucifer responded. “Duh!”

“I’m not _art_.”

Satan dropped the rose he’d been tearing apart and fell forward, leaning on his abdomen. Sam flinched again, especially when the dark angel’s body began shaking with laughter, and he slapped him a few times, the way someone might slap their leg when highly amused.

He sat up again and wiped at his eyes. “Are you _kidding_? Of course you’re art. Your facial structure is great, your eyes are beautiful, your lips are insanely soft, and your mouth… mm! Your hair is something any sane man would kill for, and your body… wow, do you have a great body. Perfect muscle definition, long legs, gorgeously defined hip bones, _delicious_ cock, nice, firm ass. And oh my Dad, you’re tight. So tight.” 

A delighted shiver ran through Lucifer and a tiny moan left him. Sam didn’t look at his crotch to see if he was getting hard on his thoughts alone. Knowing him he probably was.

A shudder ran through Sam and he swallowed roughly. His cheeks heated from the Devil’s words.

“Great,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “I’m sure everyone loves being objectified.”

Lucifer let out an annoyed huff. “Would you just shut up and let me finish?”

“Nah,” Sam told him. “I think I’ll keep annoying you.”

He turned to him as the petals began to fall on his bare skin once more. Lucifer was now tearing apart a pink rose, and he smirked at him.

“You know I get turned on when you sass me,” Lucifer explained. “You sure you don’t want me to fuck you?”

Despite the fear chewing away at his spine Sam found himself laughing.

“Lucifer, maybe you should stop and think about what you just asked me.”

Satan chuckled. “You’re right. That is kind of funny. But seriously, Sammy, why are you so sassy when you know you’re just making things worse for yourself?”

Sam started, “Because…” but then he trailed off, not sure it was even worth explaining. He clenched his jaw and turned his head away again, grunting as that caused a thorn to dig more deeply into his scalp.

“Because…?” Lucifer prompted.

His next words nearly got caught in his aching throat, “Because, I have to know that somehow, in some way, I’m still fighting, that I haven’t given in.”

“I can respect that.”

Anger sparked in Sam’s stomach. “Really?” he asked, facing him again, his gaze now fiery. “You’re talking about _respect_ when you’re doing this to me? If you _respected_ me you wouldn’t hurt me. You wouldn’t… rape me.”

“But Sam,” the dark angel whined, “raping you is _fun_!”

“Yeah, that’s ‘cause you’re Satan.”

“So? You knew that when you threw yourself in here with me. _This_ ,” he said, tapping him on the nose and making him flinch, “is all thanks to you. Besides, what else am I supposed to do?” 

He picked up a white rose and began ripping those petals off before dropping them on him in various places. Sam’s stomach clenched, the anticipation fraying his nerves, gnawing at his mind, on what little resolve he had left. That was probably all part of the plan.

“I don’t know,” he huffed out. “Maybe keep your fucking hands to yourself?!”

“Come on, Sammy. We both know I touch you with a lot more than just my hands.”

Despite everything Sam actually found himself rolling his eyes in exasperation. “It’s just an expression, Lucifer.”

“Whatever. I like touching and hurting you. You make so many _interesting_ noises.”

Sam blushed, and he was unable to think of anything else he could say to him. The Devil continued his work in silence, adding purple petals, and then yellow. Finally, he got to his feet and began dropping bright orange petals around him.

Then when he stood before him, his hands empty, he let out a contented sigh. “There we go, a crown of thorns, blood, rose petals. What a sight. Look, I know before I said I hated humans, but wow. Just… wow.”

“Now that you’re done with your little art project,” Sam said, not giving himself time to think about the fact that _he_ was the art project, “you mind letting me up?”

“No.”

Sam let out a wordless shout and tossed his head back. Terror of what was to come was freezing his blood, causing his body to tremble, and his abdomen convulsed as he tried not to cry. He didn’t think there was anything wrong with crying, but crying in front of Lucifer would most likely just turn him on.

But apparently, trying to hold back his tears had the same effect. He only knew that because now Lucifer’s clothes were gone and he straddled him. A warning growl left Sam, but the dark angel didn’t get off of him. Instead, his hardened length twitched against him. Sam swallowed the extra saliva his body started making.

“You know why I rape you, Sam?” he asked in a gravelly voice as he grabbed both of their cocks in one hand and started thrusting his hips against him.

The unexpected sensations caused heat to rush through his body and condense in his cock. And then he felt the familiar pressure of himself growing erect. Sam would be happy if he never felt that ever again.

“'Cause you suck,” he got out just before a tortured groan left him.

Satan chuckled. “Sometimes. But sometimes so do you.”

Sam’s cheeks flushed red at Lucifer’s awful joke. And when he looked to him he was smiling slightly, apparently amused with himself.

“Gotta love rape jokes,” Sam muttered sarcastically.

“Definitely,” Lucifer grunted out in agreement, not caring that Sam hadn’t actually meant what he said.

Sam felt the overwhelming pressure of Lucifer’s powers lessen, but they were still there. He’d done this many times before, so Sam knew the drill. He wouldn’t be able to escape, but he’d been given just enough room for his body to react as it wanted. And usually it was a damn traitor.

Lucifer ground down against him particularly hard and a cry left Sam, his hips arching up into him. It was terrible feeling the Devil’s cold skin against him, terrible feeling his erection rubbing against his own, terrible feeling the hot pleasure that coursed through his body.

“I rape you,” Lucifer began explaining, “because it makes me feel powerful.” A loud groan left him before he continued, “I know that when you…” A growl tore from his throat, sending shivers down Sam’s spine. “When you would fuck women you felt powerful, having them beneath you, making them feel good, making them come undone. It just - oh yes! - it does things to you, you know?”

Sam’s already heated cheeks reddened even more. It was just awful knowing what information Lucifer had been privy to while possessing him. And it was true, before, whenever he’d had sex, he’d been the dominant one, and the power it gave him was a lot of what got him off. He hated that he had that in common with the Devil.

Lucifer took his hand off him and stilled his hips. Sam bit back a groan as his cock twitched, his body clearly not liking that he wasn’t receiving pleasure at the moment. Lucifer leaned over him, his cold hands traveling up his body. A shiver ran through him and he got goosebumps.

“And,” Lucifer went on, his voice lower, more dangerous somehow, “I can make you feel pain at _exactly_ the same time I make you feel good. Torturing someone is just as good as sex for me, but when I can have both at once? It’s… it’s heavenly.” Satan then laughed softly at his own joke.

Sam’s voice leaked into his breaths, his muscles tensing as Lucifer’s breath wafted over him. And then, without any warning, the Devil latched onto his nipple with his teeth. It was like there was a string connected from his nipple to his cock and someone had tugged on it fiercely and was still tugging on it. A wordless shout left him as pain and pleasure shot through him, down into his hardened length, somehow making him even harder, so much so that he began to hurt. His hips bucked upwards, his body hungrily grinding itself against Lucifer’s. Satan groaned in delight and then he began to gnaw at him.

Sam grabbed hold of the grass and as he was overcome with sensation he ended up ripping up patches of it from the ground. He scrabbled at the dirt with his shaking fingers, needing something to hold onto. A mix between a growl and a whine left him, and his voice just kept leaking out of him.

When Lucifer finally released him he lapped over his now-swollen and aching nipple with his tongue, and a breathy sound left Sam that was similar to a sob. He shuddered and tears fell from his eyes.

His stomach clenched with fear because he knew this wasn’t over yet.

And he was right.

Lucifer gave his left nipple the same treatment, his grip on his sides bruising. Sam screamed, and he yearned to get away. White-hot sensation stabbed through him like a spear and then his cock was leaking precum. He whined and bucked against him, trying to get him off of him. But Lucifer just pressed himself against him even more and Sam started trembling, more tears rolling down his cheeks.

This time he was biting at him so harshly Sam feared he was going to tear his nipple off. He didn’t, but when the dark angel pulled away he was licking blood from his lips, his blue eyes darkened with predatory lust.

He sat up and ran his hands against Sam’s own. “You know you can always hold onto me if you want,” he suggested.

As a response, Sam spit in his face. Lucifer simply raised a hand and swiped his thumb over the saliva before sucking it into his mouth. Sam’s stomach tied itself into knots.

“Sam,” he said after he’d removed his finger from his mouth, “why do you do that? Don’t you know by now that I love your spit?”

Sam turned his head away, unable to think of anything to say. His little act of rebellion had only succeeded in turning Lucifer on more. He was truly helpless. No matter what he did, Lucifer would find it hot. Maybe if he just didn’t do anything at all.

But no. He couldn’t do that. He just couldn’t.

Then Lucifer’s hand was at his jaw, clenching tightly to get him to open his mouth. Sam grunted and tried getting out of his grip. It was no use. There was a cracking sound and pain lanced through his face, down into his neck, and through his bleeding head. He cried out, his mouth dropping open, and the pain burrowed into him even more. He breathed heavily, trying to get through it. And then Lucifer’s fingers were in his mouth, reaching too deeply. Sam nearly gagged from the uncomfortable feeling.

And then his fingers left his mouth. He opened his eyes, only to see Lucifer now sucking on those very same fingers, and then he brought them back to Sam’s mouth again. This time he reached the back of his throat and Sam started coughing. He tried to pull back, but that pushed the thorns deeper into his head. His eyes started watering, but Sam could tell that Lucifer was smiling.

When he pulled his fingers out of his mouth this time he trailed them down his neck, over the cuts in his collarbones, and then down, over to his left nipple. He rubbed at it and Sam’s back arched, his head rolling to the side. It hurt, but in a way he hadn’t realized he’d like.

“That feel good?” Lucifer asked.

Sam wasn’t sure why he answered him, but he did. “H-hurts too.”

Talking had been a bad idea because his jaw started throbbing. A distressed moan left him. After pinching his nipple and tugging on it fiercely, which caused Sam to scream, he got off of him. He was left gasping in the wake of the aching pleasure assaulting him, and the way it mixed with the pain in his head and his jaw and the back of his neck and the stinging at his collarbones was overwhelming. And Sam knew Lucifer was only going to push him past that point.

He eyed the Devil as he stood over him, his eyes burning with lust and the desire to hurt him. It was a look Sam had grown used to, but it still terrified him down to his bones.

And then Lucifer leaned over him and yanked on his crown. Using that as leverage, ignoring the way Sam screamed, or rather, enjoying it, he tugged him onto his knees before him. The rose petals fell from his body, but at this point Lucifer no longer seemed to care.

A deep sound of need left Satan, emanating from his chest, and Sam saw him shiver. “It’s nice having the Boy King kneeling before me,” he told him, his voice rough. “Ironic, isn’t it?”

Sam glared up at him in response, but he probably didn’t look very fierce because tears were pricking at the corners of his eyes. His throat began to ache.

Due to the damage in his jaw, his mouth was already slightly open, so it wasn’t difficult at all for the dark angel to pull on his crown of thorns and place his erect manhood in his mouth. A tear rolled down Sam’s cheek.

And Lucifer brutally fucked his mouth. All the while he dug the thorns further and further into Sam’s head, till they couldn’t go any deeper. Blood seeped into his eyes, and he squeezed them shut as they began to sting. Everything about this hurt. His jaw was screaming at him, his head was doing the same, and Lucifer’s hard cock was battering his throat, surely bruising him. Sam choked and attempted to scream, and he cried. But his body must’ve somehow liked some aspect of having the Devil’s cock in his mouth because he was still incredibly hard, and every once in a while his own cock would twitch with desire.

Lucifer was moaning and growling, and calling him his bitch.

Sam didn’t want to be his bitch.

So he mustered up whatever strength he could, digging it up from underneath all his terror and agony and despair, and he bit him, hard.

“Son of a bitch!”

Sam wasn’t able to hold on for long, his sore jaw protesting every fraction of a second, and when he did let go, Lucifer pulled himself from his mouth and punched him in the face.

Luckily he didn’t hit him where his jaw was most likely fractured, but a burst of pain exploded from his nose and he went tumbling backwards. Blood flowed from his nostrils, painting his upper lip red.

A wordless shout of fury left Lucifer that nearly sounded like the roar of a predator, and Sam found himself on his back, pinned to the ground, his wrists above his head. But Lucifer wasn’t touching him. He lunged at him, and Sam couldn’t even flinch. Next thing he knew the Devil was straddling him, his eyes glowing red. Blow after blow was rained down upon him, pain making a home in his body. He didn’t even have time to scream as the Devil hurt him. And then the punches stopped coming. But agony soon took him again.

Lucifer had leaned over and tore one of the branches from the rose bush, causing fragile rose petals to fall to the ground. He didn’t even seem bothered by the thorns now stuck in his hands and wrists. He slammed the branch against him length-wise, impaling him with thorns, and then ripped it down his torso. Sam screamed as he was torn open. The largest thorns were only an inch long, but with so many breaking his skin it felt like liquid fire was being poured into him. Lucifer tossed the branch aside and Sam looked down, natural curiosity urging him to assess the damage that’d been done to him. Through his squinted eyes he saw blood in all its bright red horror painting his torn skin, and thorns were stuck in him at different angles. Rose petals that had broken off were crushed and mangled, sticking to him, his blood seeping up into them. Lucifer was breathing heavily, possibly from a mix of anger and excitement.

“You think you can bite me and get away with it?” he growled out. “Huh?”

Sam swallowed roughly and shook his head. He took in a shuddering breath as Lucifer set his eyes, which were still glowing red, on his cock.

Lucifer made his way down his body, digging his fingers into the wounds along his torso as he did so, making Sam start shaking. And then he scraped a nail up the underside of Sam’s length. That sensation alone hurt more than the thorns in him.

And then he was running his forked tongue along him. Sam’s hips bucked forward, seeking that bit of pleasure that seemed to be reaching out its hand towards him to pull him from his suffering. Lucifer sucked him into his mouth. Sam groaned, clenching his hands into fists. He wished he could save himself, that he could prevent what was going to happen next.

The dark angel dragged the moment out, teasing Sam with anticipation. It was like he had him over the edge of a cliff and was letting him look down before he dropped him. Lucifer bit him and Sam fell.

The feeling was indescribable. It reached deep into him, like clawed hands running up through his body, scraping against every part of him along the way. When it reached his throat he threw his head back, releasing another scream. Lucifer moaned, the vibrations traveling along him before burrowing into him as horrid, unwanted pleasure. It tried to drown out the pain, but nothing could save him from that. Instead, the two existed together, waging a war in which his body was the battlefield.

Maybe seconds passed, maybe minutes. There was only that awful sensation, and alongside it existed the sense that this shouldn’t be happening to him.

Lucifer released him and pulled Sam from his mouth.

“See, I can bite you too,” the Devil explained. “And I’ll bite you again if you attempt to resist me.”

Sam started laughing. Maybe it was the fear, the sorrow that this was his existence now, the pain, the confusing and maddening pleasure that still coursed through him. He didn’t care. He supposed it was better than crying. But really, the two were very similar.

Speaking was difficult, his jaw not wanting to work with him, but Sam managed to say, “As if… as if I could… r-resist.” He continued laughing. “I-I can't… even… mo-move!”

His laughter stopped, his body seizing up, his heart racing in his chest, when Lucifer took hold of his length and began to pump him up and down. The ends of the thorns still stuck in his hand scraped against his hypersensitive flesh, and that’s all it took for Sam to start begging him to stop. His laughter turned into sobs.

“My offer from earlier still stands, Sammy,” Lucifer said, his voice loud enough to be heard over Sam’s terrified and pained sobs. “I can stick you with something a little more substantial than thorns, something more phallic.”

Sam feared that he might be close to breaking. Lances of pain were stabbing through him, his body shuddering, and his abused cock was throbbing. His heart seemed to be skipping a few beats here and there, terror overcoming it. Each excruciating throb of the hurts in his body seemed to pound away at his resolve, crumbling it bit by bit.

But Sam couldn’t let that happen. He didn’t know who he would be if he broke, didn’t know what he would become. And the thought of utterly losing himself was more terrifying than what Lucifer was threatening him with.

After blinking the blood from his eyes he met the Devil’s gaze. On most days staring into his eyes would make him back down, make him rethink any plans of resistance, any plans to keep himself from breaking. But not this time.

“Do it!”

Lucifer recoiled from him, almost as if he’d been slapped in the face. As his brow furrowed in confusion the glow in his eyes faded and they turned blue once more.

“What?”

“Do it, you evil son of a bitch,” Sam snarled out. “Fuck me.”

Silence reigned.

And then the Devil started laughing. Sam looked away from him then, swallowing roughly, completely unsure of what was about to happen to him.

“Oh my dad, you’re… you’re serious!” More laughter. “Oh, Sam, where would I be without you? You’re so very entertaining.”

And then he leaned over and kissed him. Sam wanted to pull away, to scrunch up his face in disgust, but he hurt too much to do either, so he lay there and took it. Lucifer grabbed hold of his jaw, and massaged his thumb right up against his fracture. A deep soreness spread throughout his face and he groaned. Then Lucifer pressed himself against him, and everything about it was horrible. Feeling his cold skin against his was something completely unwanted, yet at the same time seemed to soothe the fire that had taken over his torso. And there was the fact that the Devil was still as aroused as ever. Sam squeezed his eyes shut when he felt his cock throb against his lower abdomen.

Finally he pulled away from him and then he tapped his sore face in an almost affectionate manner.

“Oh, Sammy,” he breathed. “You really are something else.”

He then sat up, and to Sam’s complete surprise, got off him, even rising to his feet. Now, Sam could see that his blood was on him, and Satan noticed too, smiling down at himself.

But then his attention was soon back on Sam.

“Okay, if we’re gonna do this, I have a few rules.”

Sam couldn’t help rolling his eyes.

“Hey, take this seriously. Trust me, if you don’t pay attention now you’re going to sorely regret it.”

He knelt down and picked up the discarded branch. “Rule number one,” he began. “If you don’t do as I say I’m going to spank you with this.” He placed it aside before tearing off a red rose as he continued, “Rule number two: you’re going to hold this in your mouth.”

Sam furrowed his brow in confusion at the second rule.

“It’s sexy,” Lucifer explained as he leaned down and placed it in his mouth.

Remembering what Lucifer had said he would do with the branch, Sam bit down on it to hold it in place, whimpering as that put stress on his damaged jaw.

“And finally, rule number three - throughout the rest of the day, if you feel like you need to hold onto something and I don’t have you restrained in some way, you’re going to hold onto me. Got it?”

Sam glanced at the branch that had his blood on it and then nodded his head. Nothing about this was ideal, but he could get through it. He had to.

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

Lucifer waved his hand and Sam was free to move again. Part of him just wanted to lie there and never get up, and another part wanted to run. But he couldn’t run, and he had condemned himself to doing as Lucifer said, so he looked up at him expectantly, awaiting further orders.

Lucifer leered at him and licked his lips before commanding, “Touch yourself.”

Sam found that he couldn’t move, fear and shame restraining him just as much as Lucifer’s powers had. The dark angel reached for the branch, and Sam began to pump himself. He closed his eyes, trying to forget where he was, trying to forget who he was with, trying to forget how much he hurt. It wasn’t easy to let the pleasure take him. In fact, he was barely feeling it. Why couldn’t it be like this when Lucifer touched him? It was as if the shame he felt from feeling pleasure in Lucifer’s presence was holding him back. He didn’t want that. Sam had a feeling that if Lucifer wasn’t pleased with this little performance that he’d go for the branch and he’d surely use it.

Sam tried to focus on the feeling of his hand pumping his cock, on the sensations it brought to him. And little by little those sensations grew, till heat began to take over his body, and all he wanted was more.

He could feel Lucifer’s penetrating gaze on him, and Sam’s stupid body grew excited about that while his soul shriveled up in fear. A groan left him and he tilted his head back, breathing heavily. His cock twitched in his grip as Lucifer caressed his neck. He was surprised the dark angel didn’t start choking him.

And then he ghosted his hands down his injured torso, Sam trying to lean away from his touch. His hand curled around the one working at his cock and he took control, moving it up and down at a faster pace.

“Squeeze till it hurts, Sammy,” he instructed in a low, excited voice. “You like it when it hurts.”

A tear fell from the corner of his eye as he obeyed. The pain teased his nerves, coaxing them alive, and pleasure began to dance through his cock and his balls, up into his pelvis and his lower abdomen. His balls tightened and Sam growled from the sensation, unintentionally biting down on the stem till it snapped in his mouth.

Horror filled him as the rose fell to the ground and then Lucifer tsked.

_Oh god, oh god, oh god._

Sam got his other hand involved and he touched himself frantically, squeezing painfully with both hands.

“Y-you do-don’t have to… have to get - _ah!_ \- th-the branch.”

“Rules are rules, Sammy. And that rose is no longer in your mouth.”

A groan left him and it spoke of his despair, along with the pleasure caressing his injured body.

“N-no,” he pleaded. “No.”

He opened his eyes, watching as Lucifer picked up the branch, and licked his bottom lip as he approached him.

“Stop,” Lucifer ordered. “Get on your stomach.”

Sam threw his hands out on either side of him and shook his head desperately, the motion sending stabs of agony throughout him. His cock twitched, his body surprised by the sudden lack of pleasure.

“Sammy,” Lucifer said in a warning tone. “Remember rule number one. You’re just making things worse for yourself.”

A frightened whimper left Sam, his upper lip trembling, and then he heaved out a sob. Then, he rolled onto his stomach, shaking the whole time. He cried out from putting pressure on the scratches all over his torso, from the grass teasingly poking at his wounds.

And then his hands were up by his head again and he couldn’t move.

Lucifer smacked the branch against his ass. Sam screamed as thorns dug into his skin, as the rough bark scraped against him. And the Devil didn’t stop. He kept going till the branch broke and blood was running down into the grass. 

Lucifer released him and Sam lay there, shuddering, trying to make sense of his new hurts.

“Now, come on,” Lucifer said. “On your back again. You’re not done giving me a show.”

Sam nearly begged him to kill him. But he knew he’d never be that merciful. So he did as he said, groaning all the while. His body hurt so badly and his most recent torture had made his erection go away. Lucifer noticed, and frowned down at him.

“I know you can get it back up. Just think of how it feels to have me inside of you. I mean, it’s great, right?”

Sam didn’t have it in him to say _screw you_ , so he tugged at his manhood, trying to get himself erect again. Just physical sensation alone wasn’t doing it. So Sam forced his mind to wander to Ruby. Thinking about her hurt in so many ways he couldn’t make sense of, but he did his best to forge past that and think of the times they’d shared their bodies with each other. Anger lanced through him as his mind wandered to their first time together, and he nearly started crying. He didn’t understand why he hurt like this. He just didn’t. But then he started remembering how it’d felt to have her beneath him, to have so much of her skin touching his, to be inside of her. And he craved that. He wished he could go back and have that again, if only to escape his torment. His breathing grew harsh and he could feel himself growing aroused again.

“Thinking about me?” Lucifer asked teasingly.

“No,” Sam whispered. He had to let him know that he would never intentionally think of him in that way, that he’d never want him like that.

“Then who? Jess? Madison? Ruby? I can list all the women you’ve slept with if you want.” 

Sam held his tears at bay, trying to tell himself that it didn’t matter that Lucifer had that information. It didn’t matter that he’d been in his head. After all, it was Sam’s fault. He’d said yes.

It was so difficult to stay aroused when he was struggling with so much at once, so he tried to immerse himself in sexual memories, tried to remember when sex had been something he’d enjoyed. The pain in his body lessened as pleasure took its place, and he growled, desire weaving its way through him.

“There we go, Sammy,” the dark angel crooned. “There we go. Just like that.”

Another growl left Sam, and he tossed his head to the side, breathing heavily. He lost himself in how good he felt, in how much he yearned for a warm, feminine body against his. His whole body seemed to ache with how badly he wanted someone to hold, someone to kiss, someone to take. He began to feel feverish and he let himself be vocal with his wants, his pleasure.

It all grew very overwhelming and his muscles tensed, his back arching off the ground. A scream was building up in his chest.

And then pleasure was singing through him in a sudden crescendo. But some sort of terror tried to take hold of him when, through all the blinding, searing sensation, he realized that his orgasm wasn’t accompanied with his cum falling onto him or coating his now-shaking hand. And there was a strange, nearly painful pressure just beneath his balls.

Lucifer grabbed him, and still lost in the throes of pleasure, Sam was completely helpless. He wanted to ask what he was doing to him because surely this strange, drawn-out orgasm was his doing, but he couldn’t speak, could hardly move.

The Devil spoke, his voice rough and commanding, “Rest your weight on your forearms.”

Sam did so instantly, knowing that if he didn’t Lucifer would just spank him with another branch. And then he lifted up his legs, getting in between them. Sam started whimpering.

“See, this way,” Lucifer began, “you actually have to work with me. Fun, right?”

Sam couldn’t answer. His climax was still pounding through him mercilessly, and it was overwhelming and unbearable. It felt too good. He was walking the thin line between pleasure and pain. Hell, he could barely tell the difference between the two at the moment. He’d never felt anything like this in his entire life. He just burned and ached. And it got a whole lot worse when he felt Lucifer ready to penetrate him.

Sam wanted nothing more than to squirm out of his grip, but he knew it was useless, and his ass burned as he thought of the branch again. He had to cooperate. He just had to.

Those few seconds before Lucifer entered him were horrifying. Sam was shaking and trying to do all he could to mentally prepare himself. But there was no preparing himself for this. No matter how many times he endured this he still couldn’t shake the fear he felt, the hurt, the shame, the absolute anguish.

For some reason Lucifer entering him didn’t hurt as much as he’d expected. It was as if his body was accepting him, and that realization made Sam want to stab himself. It stung a little, but that was it. But as the Devil thrusted deeper, cold penetrating him, Sam realized it wouldn’t be long before he felt very sore. He threw his head back and screamed as his cock brushed against his prostate, and his whole body throbbed, his own cock twitching.

Lucifer began to thrust, his pace unforgiving, and Sam thought he was going to die from how much he was feeling. He began to burn inside, to ache, and Lucifer’s thrusts grew easier. Sam was bleeding. He was sure of it. His body tensed from the pain, and everything hurt more, and he felt like he was being torn apart. But pleasure hadn’t left his body yet and it was sparking through his spine each time his prostate was hit. And then his horrid climax finally ended, making it easier to think, letting in room for just how violated he felt.

“What the… what the hell did you… do?” he asked, hating how his words had been interspersed with moans and cries.

Sam opened his eyes to see Lucifer giving him a knowing smile.

“Just… used my powers to put some… pressure on... a few… important muscles.”

Hearing the way his words had come out as grunts was even worse than hearing his own voice. It disgusted him that Satan was using his body to pleasure himself. And Sam didn’t quite understand what he’d said. He gave up trying to comprehend it. Lucifer knew his body better than he did, so it only made sense he could do something like that to him.

With Lucifer’s next, particularly hard thrust, he began to feel the strain in his arms from having to hold himself up. Sam wanted to beg him to stop, tell him that he couldn’t take it anymore. But all torture was about driving the victim past the point they couldn’t take, and Lucifer was better at it than anyone. He drove Sam past that point and then he kept going, till it wore away at his mind, his sanity, his understanding of who he was.

Maybe this alone was breaking Sam.

He was being torn apart with barely anything holding him together. This was all there was for now. He couldn’t think past this moment of Lucifer brutally taking him, couldn’t string together enough thoughts to remember anything before it. All he knew was that he hurt, and he felt good, and he was tired. So very, very tired.

All the physical sensations mixed together, claiming him, and it became all Sam was.

He woke up lying on the ground, his body screaming at him. It seemed like nearly every part of him hurt. Something was scratching against his leg, and Sam opened his eyes to see Lucifer teasingly running a branch up his calf, over his knee, and then up his thigh. His body jerked away when some of the thorns slid into his skin, drawing blood.

“I’m not done with you yet,” the Devil told him.

Sam tried to ask him why he had another branch, but his jaw didn’t want to work, and it was throbbing, the pain shooting through him. That wasn’t the only part of him that pleaded for attention, but Sam tried to ignore the pain, ignore his arousal, block it all away from himself. He didn’t want to be ruled by his body. 

But as Lucifer began to run a hand along his skin he realized that he was. Sam was a slave to his own body, a slave to Lucifer, a slave to all his torment and anguish. He still brushed the branch against him, the fear of further pain making his stomach quiver.

“There are still so many things I can do to you.”

Sam started trying to sit up, and Lucifer moved the branch to his chest, pressing him back down. “Ah-ah-ah... Lie still. I have a surprise for you.”

He tried to glare defiance at him, but his upper lip trembling slightly ruined it. Still, he pressed himself against the branch, till the thorns started digging into his already torn flesh. A snarl left him.

“Fine. You want to sit? I’ll give you something to sit on.”

Sam tried to pull back at that, and Lucifer grabbed the crown in his head, and he noticed that he’d plucked the thorns from his hands and wrists. He started dragging him up.

“You said you’d cooperate, so you’re gonna cooperate,” he told him. Lucifer sat down cross-legged and left Sam kneeling before him. He patted his thigh. “So, are you going to sit or what?”

Sam glanced at his eyes and then at the branch which he’d placed down beside him.

Lucifer turned his head to look as well.

“Is getting spanked by that not good enough of a threat for you, Sammy? If you want I could just as easily shove it up your ass. Which do you think is going to hurt more? My dick or the branch?”

Sam opened his mouth further, grunting from the pain that lanced through him. “A-at least… you w-wouldn’t g-get pleasure… from it.”

Lucifer smirked. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

There was nothing he could say to that. Sweat and blood trickled down the back of his neck and his adam’s apple bobbed up and down.

Satan tilted his head at him and a low, warning growl left his throat, “ _Sammy…_ ”

Somehow he forced himself over to the Devil, and then he climbed on top of him, his legs on either side of him. He abhorred the sensation of their cocks rubbing together, but Lucifer clearly didn’t; he thrust his hips against him a few times, his mouth dropping open in a delighted groan. Remembering rule number three, Sam placed his shaking hands on his shoulders.

“Very good,” Lucifer crooned. “Now, lift yourself up.”

Lucifer grew blurry in his vision as his eyes welled up with tears.

“I don’t want this,” he whispered as a tear slipped free, running through the blood on his face.

He wasn’t sure why he’d said those words. He of all people knew just how damn useless they were.

“Sam, as sexy as your defiance is, remember what I said I’d do.” He grabbed the branch, hefting it up. “ _This_ will be your punishment. Take a good look at it.”

He swallowed roughly and tilted his aching head to study the branch. It was definitely thinner than Lucifer’s cock, but it was gnarled, the bark rough, and there were the broken off stems of roses stuck to it. Tearing the branch off hadn’t stripped it of all its thorns, and it was long. Sam was sure Lucifer would force all of it into him if he didn’t cooperate. And he said he’d still get pleasure from it. Sam knew he meant a mental kind of pleasure, but at this point he wasn’t sure what was worse. The branch couldn’t throb and twitch within him, didn’t have anything to empty into him. The branch wouldn’t get to know what he felt like inside. The branch couldn’t moan and scream his name and hold onto him. The branch couldn’t give him unwanted pleasure.

Now Sam was actually starting to consider that over Lucifer. It’d still be horribly violating and even more painful than being fucked by him, but less personal, somehow.

The dark angel then grabbed his jaw, causing Sam to cry out and dig his nails into his shoulders, and he turned his head back to him. “So, you make your decision yet, Boy King?”

Sam’s stomach clenched and a sense of dread fell heavy on him, but he wasn’t going to turn back. “J-just go ah-ahead… a-and shove the b-branch… up my ass,” he got out, his sentence interspersed with agonized groans. He did his best to get the next words out clearly without them being interrupted, “It’d be better than having your ugly dick in me.”

“I’m sorry. What?” he asked, clearly taken aback.

Sam knew this was his chance to back down, this was his chance to apologize, his chance to tell him he’d been kidding, his chance to beg him to put the branch down and fuck him. But he did none of that.

“You heard me,” he told him in an impossibly even voice.

The blue of Lucifer’s eyes burned red as he ordered, “Then get off of me, and lie down on your stomach, bitch.”

“I-I’m not… your _bitch_.”

Lucifer pushed him off of him, and was on his feet, kicking him in the ribs before he could even get up. There was sharp snap and then Sam couldn’t breathe because of the agony lancing through him.

“On your stomach, bitch!”

“F-f-fuck… you!” Sam snarled out, rolling onto his side with a groan and hugging an arm to his chest. He then repeated in a whisper, “Fuck you.”

Lucifer knelt down beside him, his gaze still red and hot. “Fine, do you want me to call you something else? How about freak? Monster? Abomination? Pet? Slave? Whore? I could go on if you want.”

Sam found himself suddenly blinking away tears. Every word dug into him more deeply than the thorns because they were things he’d called himself, thought of himself, especially while in here. Each one burrowed a spike into his damaged soul.

“What? Now you shut up? Fine. That’s fine.” He shrugged and then paused paused before musing, “You know, freak has a nice ring to it. So… _freak_. Get. On. Your. Stomach.”

Sam spit in his general direction, too weak to try very hard to actually make it land on him.

Then there was nothing but the sound of his harsh breathing. Everything seemed to still as he waited for the inevitable, waited for further punishment.

Through his tears Sam saw Lucifer hold his hand out towards him, palm directed at him, fingers curled slightly. And then he was taken by pain so intense he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. All his body did was shake and tremble in the wake of it, as if he was having a seizure. There was something _off_ about this new torment. It seared and danced and stabbed and claimed every part of him, from his head all the way down to his toes, which were curling helplessly. There was something familiar about it, something that he tried to reach for, but it was mired in with all the sensations, interwoven too intricately for him to single out. White light, hot and blinding even though his eyes were squeezed shut, was bursting behind his eyes.

The Devil put his hands on him to roll him over, and Sam was mortified when his beaten body arched into his touch and a moan made its way past his trembling lips.

Oh god. Lucifer wasn’t _hurting_ him. He was _pleasuring_ him. The pleasure was so intense that it was registering as pain.

Once he realized that, he hated himself even more than he had before, and decided that he deserved to stop existing that instant. He didn’t just want it. He didn’t just need it. He deserved it. He didn’t deserve to live, didn’t deserve to have a soul, never even deserved ever being born. Sam was truly a freak, and he didn’t deserve anything but nothing.

Satan got him on his stomach, and another moan left Sam as he ran his hands down his back, tingles erupting in his skin from his touch, and they buried deeper, joining his agony.

With one hand, Lucifer kneaded the left cheek of his damaged and bloodied ass before pulling it aside to expose his torn hole. Then he felt something hard and slightly sharp poking at him, seeking entry. He felt so feverish and hot, and he could barely think about what was about to happen to him. There was just the here and now.

Lucifer shoved the branch inside of him.

A spear of excruciating pain stabbed through him, all the way up into his stomach. It burned and stung and scraped and tore at him. It ruined him. A pathetic mewling sound was leaving Sam, and his fingers tugged at the grass, ripping it up, before digging into the dirt. And then he tried to drag himself away. But his muscles didn’t want to work. They were too taken in the throes of excruciating ecstasy. His entire body was throbbing, pleasure beating within him like a drum, pain radiating forth from it in powerful waves. Every cell was alight with overwhelming sensation, thrumming in sexual pleasure, and wailing in unimaginable pain.

Sam was grateful when Lucifer left the branch where it was rather than moving it in and out of him like he’d anticipated. But then the Devil was on top of him, his cold skin pressing against his, battling the fever that raged through him. And he couldn’t fight him as he started to grind himself against his ass, couldn’t fight him as he wrapped an arm around his throat to hold him to him, couldn’t fight him as he touched his starving body. Sam was so confused by everything he was feeling he started to scream, and then he couldn’t stop, not even when he felt the pieces of his broken rib scrape together, not even when he felt the bone poking at his right lung. His voice was all he had left to him now, and he used it. Used it to show the Devil his suffering, his hatred, his fear, his shame, his disgust, his guilt, his _want_. His body wanted the dark angel, craved him like never before. And Sam just wanted to die.

It was impossible to say how much time passed, and then Satan was getting off of him. He twisted the branch inside of him and Sam’s breath was stolen from him. And then, slowly, slowly, he pulled it out of him, blood dripping onto the backs of his thighs.

“That’s enough of that,” he heard Lucifer say.

And then the pleasure stopped. Sam found himself crying because he wanted it again. He felt like nothing without it, meaningless.

Lucifer rolled him onto his back and Sam turned his head away.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“A-as i-i-if you d-don’t kn-know,” he stuttered out.

His throat ached and he just wanted to stop crying. But he felt so empty, so… dead inside.

Lucifer leaned over him and moaned hungrily as he bit at his ear with his teeth. Sam’s stomach began to flip with excitement, and raw, hot desire stabbed through his gut and in between his legs so powerfully it hurt. He growled at the sensation, and he reached for it, preferring it to all the injuries he had.

_Later. I can hate myself later._

The Devil then licked a trail up his earlobe before telling him in a voice dripping with predatory lust, “Your body misses the pleasure, doesn’t it? That’s where I come in.” He chuckled, his breath whispering over him, causing Sam to shudder. “Literally,” he joked. “So now, I’m going to sit cross-legged, and you’re going to get on me. Is that understood, Sam Winchester?”

Sam licked his lips, his heart pounding ferociously. His body pleaded with him to say yes, and his numerous injuries served as reminders as to why he should.

“Yes, Lucifer.”

Now it was the dark angel’s turn to shudder.

“I love it when you say my name like that.”

He licked his ear one last time and pulled back from him. Sam took a few seconds to get his bearings, and then he pushed himself up, crying out as his abused body protested. Slowly, trying to minimize how much moving hurt, he went over to Lucifer and straddled him, more of his blood getting on his skin.

“Good, Sammy,” he breathed, stroking a hand over the back of his neck. “Very good. Now mount me.”

Sam swallowed roughly, and then nodded.

Now it was just like before, he was over Satan, about to be impaled by him, about to be taken and claimed by him _again_. And this time, this time his body _ached_ with yearning. Lucifer ran his hands down his back and Sam leaned his head backwards, a breathy moan leaving him. The Devil’s hands went to his hips, pulling him down onto him. He wasn’t as forceful as usual, but he didn’t stop, just kept penetrating him. He was hard and cold and fleshy within him, and now, with his insides even more ruined, it _hurt_. Sam grabbed onto him, digging his nails in till he drew blood.

_Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god…_

His body trembled as Satan stretched and filled him with his cock, pleasure trailing languidly through his spine and abdomen and in between his legs.

And then, he was in him all the way. Sam leaned his head down, a shuddering breath leaving him. Lucifer groaned and leaned his forehead against his.

“Even after being torn apart you still feel so good,” he murmured.

And then he rocked up into him. Sam unintentionally wrapped his arms around him, needing something to anchor himself as stinging pain and pleasure rolled through him. Lucifer didn’t give him a break. He just kept going, kept rocking his hips up into him, breathing atrocious things into his ear whenever his mouth wasn’t busy marking his skin. His hands were on his ass, pulling him against him with each movement. And he was so deep within him that it was absolutely terrifying. But it was what his body wanted.

His cock was rubbing against Lucifer’s torso, burning pleasantly and leaking precum. His body arched into his touch, ground down against him, and held him, and all the while his mind screamed and screamed at him to stop. He found Lucifer’s mouth with his own, and shoved his tongue inside before he could do the same to him. He hated this being, hated this archangel more than he hated anything. This dark angel was the most atrocious, horrid, evil being in existence. He _had_ to be. He was to Sam. 

Lucifer moaned into his mouth, and Sam found himself doing the same. Their tongues swirled together, and teeth bit and pulled at lips. By the time Sam managed to pull away his swollen bottom lip was bleeding and he was panting. Lucifer captured his lips again, groaning, the pace and force of his thrusts growing in power. His grip became even more painful, and Sam opened his mouth to cry out, only for Lucifer to lick his forked tongue into him. One of Lucifer’s hands made its way around his throat, not to choke him, but to let him know that he owned him. He then rolled them over till Sam was on his back and he was driving into him with merciless, brutal ferocity.

Sam’s body was practically vibrating and throbbing with unbridled excitement as the Devil pounded into him. He began to feel hot and feverish again, moans leaving him in an endless torrent, only to be swallowed by Lucifer. His toes curled and he grasped at him, clawing, as if that could somehow save him from what was about to happen. There was an intense pressure in his lower abdomen and pelvis, in his cock and his balls and just beneath them, and it seemed like liquid fire now lived within his spine. A jolt of voracious pleasure shot through his body, and then his back was arching off the ground, his cock throbbing, and cum was shooting out onto his and Lucifer’s stomachs. Satan pulled his mouth away to let him scream. No matter how much air he used he couldn’t seem to scream loud enough. Lucifer’s own cock throbbed within his body as his muscles tightened around him, and then he was filling him with his cum. It was sticky and unnaturally cold, but it soon warmed from being in his heated body. He was trembling and twitching, and Lucifer held him down, held himself inside of him, his head thrown back as he shouted his name into the air.

Sam came down from his high first, and Lucifer thrusted a few more atrocious times before he soon followed suit. But those times were all it took to overwhelm Sam, to take hold of him, to become too much.

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move. Everything hurt. His existence hurt. Blood rushed in his ears, and his eyes slid closed. 

Sam thought that was it, that this would be the end. But he lasted for a few more minutes, and in that time Lucifer turned him into art once more, dropping roses and rose petals onto him, the flowers soaking up his blood. He was reduced to an object, reduced to something to look at and admire, to touch and marvel at. He wasn’t a freak, or an abomination, or a monster, or a whore. He wasn’t even Sam Winchester. He was a rose. Pretty to look at, pleasing to the touch. And just as fragile.

The last thing he saw before that inevitable blackness took him was Lucifer’s pleased face as he admired the newest addition to his garden. Him.


End file.
